Together We Shall Rise
by SirenOfSaturn
Summary: Kay based after the end of 'Phantom'. Erik is alive and trying to figure out his place among the living when the Opera House is bought by the most curious person, who refuses Erik's offer to buy the Garnier for himself. Eventually ErikxOC.
1. A new start

The dimmed gas lantern cast the room in shadows, the only thing visible in the manager's office of the Opera Garnier were the large oak desk and the two occupants who sat on either side of it. On one side a woman sat appearing in her late thirties, a crooked frown placed on her tan face hidden mostly by dark curly locks. Her coal colored eyes stared at the opponent in front of her the only thing visible of him was the wide brimmed fedora and the white flat mask that covered his entire face. Giving a sigh, the woman leaned back in her chair before making eye contact with the gold iris that seemed to stare right through her.

"So Monsieur, am I to understand you wish to simply buy the Opera Garnier from me?"

"Madam." He spoke with a voice that wisped through the air like velvet. "Am I to understand you think this opera house does not already belong to me?"

One month earlier…

"Are you going to stare at the board? Or make your next move Daroga?" Erik sighed from his seat. True the old friends has been enemies in countless chess games over the past thirty years, but each game seemed to hold a bit of originality to break the cycle of boredom. Every game held it's on strategy, a separate plot, however each game seemed to contain Erik's taunts for Nadir's slow plotting. Plotting that no matter how well planed ended up in Erik's victory.

"Don't rush me. You left your bishop exposed and I'm trying to figure out if it's a trap or a careless flaw from your arrogance." The Persian frowned running a finger over his thick mustache.

"It's just a bishop Daroga, I use to have two until you took one. Goodness you're more paranoid than I am these days." The masked man chuckled taking a sip of the thick Turkish coffee.

"Hm, we'll see who's arrogant." The oriental smiled moving his knight to the bishop's square and knocking it over. "Check."

"Mate." Erik finished moving his queen to the new landed pony and blocking his friend's king.

"Damn."

"I believe that is now six wins in your favor, and five thousand eight hundred and thirty-six in mine." The phantom stretched.

"You know you've been living here for two months." Nadir sighed. "You could at least swing some compensation my way."

"Compensation?" Erik stared. "Daroga, I have never once accepted the money from my victories. If you are asking me to pay rent, you need only ask, I have already offered."

"I met compensation by toning down your wins." The dark skinned man laughed, waving his hand. "You know your money is no good here."

"As you constantly remind me, now please excuse me for a moment, old friend." The tall man rose gracefully making his way down the hall toward the water closet.

"Two months indeed." Nadir sighed, leaning back in his chair. Two months ago when Erik had departed from sanity, and had attempted to take everyone along with him. It seemed years ago, that his friend had let the little Daae girl go with her lover, and bare handedly destroyed his entire home. He had smashed his pipe organ, destroyed his twenty year old score, and laid down in his mother's bed ready to accept death. Then a turn of events, contrary to the stars had come. Ms. Daae had returned before her wedding to hand deliver an invitation…just as she had promised. The Persian lead her to Erik's bedside and gave them their privacy and even kept the viscount away when he demanded to know what had become of his fiancée. An hour later Christine reappeared holding that damnable feline, she departed with her lover, and the rest, he was certain, was happily ever after.

For two days he remained by his sick friend's side, devoted to see him off to the after life. On the morning of the third day, he was amazed to see Erik rise his head up slightly.

"Erik?" He whispered.

"There's something wrong with my heart Nadir…It's still beating."

After his friend became more stable and began walking around, the oriental had urged his friend to come back to his flat with him. His guest room was always open, and he was convinced that left alone in that dungeon full of memories that his friend's condition would eventually worsen. "Allah works in mysterious ways my friend. There is always time for another redemption."

"Redemption and Allah are things who I have defied numerous times…but I-I will accept your invitation for now. Only for a while."

"A while, or as long as you need Old friend. My door has always been open to you."

Once he was settled in to the small guest room, Erik immediately refused the detective's plea for a physician. "Que sera sera." He said. "I do not need a doctor to determine that for me.

Slowly the man's health returned, along with his whit, concluding that Erik had risen from the dead again. All his friend could wish for him now, is that he would live out the remainder of his years, above ground and in peace. The opera ghost was dead. Long live Erik, Nadir praised.

"Sir?" His long time man-servant whispered coming in from the front door, and quickly kneeling at his employer's side.

"Ah Darius. Certainly took you a while to fetch a paper, didn't it?" The Daroga noted eyes studying the clock on the mantle. "I take it the recent political events have the streets crowded with all sorts of people." He smiled.

"Nadir." He pleaded. Although Darius had been a long time devout to the Khan family he had often referred to his charge as Sir, even though he had been permitted to use his given name. However, Darius only used the title for urgent matters, which the employer quickly recognized.

"What is it?" He whispered.

"Where is HE?" The man looked around.

"Call of nature." The Persian informed, gesturing to the hall. "Why?"

"Why Nature called, Fate has been cruelly plotting." He shook his head, handing his master the paper. "Page eight."

Quickly the ex-officer began to flip through the paper, eyes immediately catching the headline of the entertainment section. "May Allah have mercy…"

"Allah's mercy is not what I worry about." Darius sighed watching the European make his way from the hall, to the sitting room. "Until then I shall be at the market." He informed quickly heading for the door.

"Coward." Nadir whispered, eyeing his friend as he reentered the room and took his seat.

"Darius is certainly in a hurry." He commented.

"Ah, a market vendor has saved some pomegranates for him. I don't think I've had one since Persia."

Yellow eyes quickly threw an odd glance the eastern man's way. "Pomegranates are seasons away."

"A-are they? I meant the other fruit. The um-ah my French escapes me."

"_Kumquats? Mangos? Apricots?_" Erik questioned, his language changing to Farsi.

"One of those." He reassured. "I suppose we'll find out around supper."

"Everything alright, Daroga?" The French man inquired studying his friend carefully.

"Fine, fine…How about another game?" He urged.

The mask tilted as if to consider the idea before eyeing the newspaper on the table. "Maybe later, right now I think I'd like to read for a bit."

"A splendid idea." He agreed, snatching up the paper, and reading from the middle pages.

"Daroga? Would you mind if I had the Entertainment section?"

"Oh, um, I'm actually reading that right now."

"Since when do you read the entertainment section?" Erik chuckled. "You're usually nose deep in matters of politics and the mundane crime stories. Monsieur Flamone was robbed., culprit still at large…You're being silly, now come on, let me have it. I haven't had news of the opera in months. What production are they up to?"

"Shall I read it to you?"

"Oui, and then perhaps you would tuck me in and kiss me good night. Daroga," He stared, tone changing to that of a cat who had his eye on a wounded mouse. "You're hiding something."

The Persian sighed, "Alright my friend." He sighed handing him the paper.

Erik took the parchment eyes scanning over the open page eight.

'_Madam Iliana divorcee wins ownership of Moncharmin and Richard's Opera Sale'_

Very comely the tall man closed the paper and folded it in his lap. "Hm." He uttered, nodding to himself his body beginning to shake unexpectedly.

"Erik!" Nadir demanded concerned, until the shaking finally erupted in laughter.

"This is it!" He shook his head. "First I am damned with this face, and life, I manager to live over half a century, and spend my dying years as a love sick school boy mad with someone else's fiancée. Then God mocks me again by causing me to LIVE again…and now my creation, my child…is bought by some spoiled uneducated spiteful divorced woman who knows nothing of art. I suppose she will fill the stage with those cliché romantic acts, after first decorating the hall ways in pink lace!"

"Erik," Nadir sighed, "If you even bothered to pick up a newspaper for more than ten minutes of the art section, you would know a feminine reputation is the least thing concerning Madam Iliana."

The masked man paused his malice laugher to look his friend in the eye. "Well then as a bystander to the society woes…Inform me!" He demanded.

"Madam Karissa Iliana, formerly Madam Wilson. Was an immigrant from Greece. She resided here in Paris for a while doing mediocre jobs until she married Monsieur Wilson, a former Diplomat of England. Is any of this ringing a bell?"

"Bloody Hell, you are the chief busybody, aren't you Daroga?" Erik sighed, rubbing a temple. "Continue."

"Monsieur Wilson resigned as a Diplomat and began working as an investor in the iron industry. He's made millions…well he took up a mistress, and Madam Ilianna initiated a divorce."

"She initiated a divorce?" Erik repeated. "Then they were married in England?"

"Well it couldn't have been France…but what's strange is Madam Ilianna walked from her divorce with nearly half of her husband's fortune. No one knows how…They assume she used guilt on him. Everyone knows they never appeared happy through out most of their marriage, though she seemed devoted to him."

"Monsieur Wilson was a former diplomat, no? Then it certainly wasn't guilt." Erik sighed, putting aside the paper. "Odds are she knew something folly, and black mailed him."

"Her reputation is vulgar through out society, now. Buying the opera house shocked the press, they assume she just did it as a personal interest."

"Personal or not." Erik stood heading toward the writing desk in the corner. "I'm afraid I cannot allow this, personal travesty of hers, to bury my creation." Pulling open a drawer, Erik began sorting through some stationary.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm going to arrange a little meeting with this Madam Ilianna, and give her the proper terms of how to run such a masterpiece as the La Garnier."

"_You stubborn fool!"_ Nadir shouted in Farsi. "Have you learned nothing. I bring you here after the shamble of your attempts as an opera ghost, and you wish to continue haunting a building? I thought this was your start as a human being! As a great man!"

Unfazed Erik picked up a quill and began to scribble on the parchment. "Human being and great man are debatable terms…but take ease Daroga. I have no intention of continuing on as an opera ghost."

"Y-you don't." The Persian stared.

"No…I'm going to buy the place." He shrugged.

"Buy? Buy! Erik your funds are-"

"They are what?" He turned. "Nadir did you really think that I was broke? I collected twenty thousand francs a month for over ten years. Do you think my extravagant taste squandered all of it? I have investments, and a small nest egg. Surely you don't think me a faulty business man."

The man sighed, falling into his chair, and shaking his head. "You never cease to amaze me old friend. After all these years…but how will you run the opera house Erik? That requires a lot of public relation skills…something I think you would frown at."

"That's the least of my problems." He waved, continuing to write. "Figure heads, and a publicity manager can be bought. I simply wish to wait in the shadows, and keep track of the artistic matters."

"Assuming of course she accepts your offers."

"Your faith in me is disappointing Daroga. Do you think any of her protest could begin to rival my stubbornness?"

"…You really know nothing of women, do you my friend?"

**Well I'm back to phan writing. Without being to personal…this has been the worst year of my life. I lost my love, my trust, and partial sanity. I was actually so depressed I was hospitalized after a second suicide attempt and a broken heart. And so I have moved back in with my family, and am starting school again…Reading over my old Portrait of the Soul, and Susan Kay's original 'Phantom' …I was reminded that Erik gave me strength in the past. All I can hope is that he will guide me through the future through writing. Thank you for reading, and please review, I have no idea where this story came from none the less if I should continue. Please let me know. Remember I do not own Erik…I merely worship him.**

**-Siren**


	2. An Agreement

"So Monsieur, am I to understand you wish to simply buy the Opera Garnier from me?"

"Madam." He spoke with a voice that whisped through the air like velvet. "Am I to understand you think this opera house does not already belong to me?"

Madam Karissa Iliana now possessed an amused smirk on her plum lips. "It already belongs to you?" She quoted, twisting a loose, dark curl around her finger. "How can I argue with that Monsieur…After all you were one of the original contractors for the The Palace Garnier…were you not, Erik?"

The masked man stared, eyes focusing on the Greek woman. "Madam, if you value your existence, I would pray for you to indulge me on how you received such information." He had promised Nadir no more murders. He had never promised his conscience anything about threats.

"What I value." She replied, absently brushing her bare ring finger. "Is none of your concern."

"If you've heard of me at all, you should know trying my patience is not a wise thing."

"Indeed, I have heard that." Karissa smiled, before standing and slowly walking over to the bookcase of the manager's office. "Would you care for a drink?" She asked, reaching behind a few opera scores and retrieving two balloon glasses and a bottle of amber colored liquor.

Erik was at first taken a back, never before being offered spirits by a woman. "Don't feel obliged, I am still waiting for my first request!"

"I'm not obliged." She shrugged, sitting down and pouring herself a glass. "I do care for a drink, I just hate to indulge alone." She finished, sliding the uncorked bottle towards her guest with the glass. "Incase you change your mind."

Erik watched her swish the cognac before taking a small sip. "If you would be so kind now, Madam Iliana. How do you have the misfortune of knowing me?"

Setting the glass on the desk the woman finally answered, "From a very dear friend of mine…and yours for that matter."

"There is only one such friend I have acquired. One I am assured you have never met."

"Charles Garnier?"

Immediately a tingle ran across the ex-phantom's spine. Charles Garnier? The titled architect to whom he had let assist with the birth of his most precious creation.

"When I was a young girl in Greece." Karissa began interrupting his thoughts. "I use to spend the summers at The Pantheon and watch all of the young masons who came abroad to study architecture. Hence where I met Charles." She smiled secretly. "He would spend time with me, whenever he had a free moment, and told me if I was ever in Paris to look him up, and he would introduce me to French society."

"That's a charming story." Erik stared. "Charming and…edited. Though your shortcuts do not bother me. What happened between you and Monsieur Garnier is no business of mine, or Madam Garnier for that matter-"

"Please leave."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Monsieur, I agreed to your terms for a private meeting to discuss the greater concerns of MY opera house. Those terms never called for me to be accused of adultery. If you cannot stick to those terms I shall have to have the authorities escort you off the premises."

An immediate threat to contact the authorities? Well did she ever remind him of someone. "Please forgive my accusations, Madam. I shall abide to your terms, if you could do the courtesy and abide to mine."

"…Of course." She sighed, folding her hands on the tabletop in front of her. "After my recent divorce it was Charles who supported my pursuit to buy the opera house…Prior, he also indulged me in his tales of his co-architect. A great man, a very great man, he said, by the name of Erik."

"Great is debatable." The masked man sighed, taking the previously offered bottle of liquor and pouring himself a glass. After taking a small sip, he looked across the table and resumed conversation. "…Regardless of this odd coincidence. I would be very much grateful if we resumed our original topic of the ownership of the opera house."

"It's not for sale."

Back to square one. Erik realized flexing his left hand. "Madam Iliana-"

"Karissa."

"…Karissa. Considering you know of my connection. I am assured that you know how much of a personal favor this would be. But please know, my personal feelings will not affect the performance of this magnificent palace."

"I am perfectly assured you would take good care of it, Monsieur." She nodded. "However, as far as personal understandings go…Owning this opera holds a great deal of…something for me."

"Something?" Yellow eyes narrowed.

"Something very dear." The Greek concluded, signaling she was not willing to go further into the matter. "However…If you truly want the Garnier in your life, perhaps we could come to an agreement of some sort."

"An agreement?" Erik was neither fond nor appreciated being on this end of control. In fact he couldn't remember the last time he was in this sort of situation of an agreement. In fact the last time might have bloody well been with Charles Garnier himself!

"I don't know if you've noticed this about me, from my reputation in the papers…but I'm a bit of a hasty woman, Monsieur."

A bit! Erik for once was thankful of the mask covering his bemusement. This woman could easily make Napoleon seem lethargic in decision-making, compared to this creature before him!

"As I've said. I have no intention of selling the title of the opera house." She repeated taking another sip of her liquor. "But in truth…I don't know anything about running a business such as this." She laughed.

"Excuse me?" For the first time in a while Erik was in utter disbelief. She had made the purchase of this building so well known, and yet she insisted on running it with no knowledge of such means in her head. He dare thought she was madder than he was.

"Absolutely nothing." She shrugged, seeming now completely calm, and almost upbeat. Erik was beginning to wonder if she possessed some sort of duel personality to be so stewed and collected one moment then happily manic the next. "But if there is one thing I have complete knowledge in Monsieur…it's that you would be able to handle such affairs. At least I'm pretty sure from what Charles told me."

"Are you actually suggesting that I operate and manage this entire theater, while you stand by as a figure head?"

Her dark eyes rolled up for a moment as if pondering what words he had just spoken, before she gave a mild shrug and replied. "That sounds fairly accurate to what I was thinking…Do we have a deal Monsieur?"

He had no idea what had come over him. Such a range of emotions had played him since he first arrived. He was assured he was going to get his way before he even walked through the door. Then he had been alerted and threatened by her prior knowledge of his artistic talents, and now he was fairly convinced that they had both fallen into the pools of insanity together. This woman was a Gemini when it came to her personality, unstable and upbeat, which reminded Erik much of himself. He had not acquired ownership of the Garnier like he had desired, but in the end she was offering him the same things he had wanted for the title! He would have order and control of the whole theater! He was convinced he was making a deal with some demon in disguise, but her abnormality and lack of knowledge seemed to drunken him with a feeling that was more than the cognac! Besides once he showed that his direction was all that was needed, he was sure he could later persuade this mad woman to sign things over to him!

"Erik." He answered.

"Erik?"

"If we are to be in business together Karissa, we should at least call each other by name." He declared, raising his glass.

"To Business." She chided, gently clinking her glass to his.

Business, a word that would come to haunt him later in life.

**Okay I realize this chapter was very jumpy and probably scatter-brained to you readers, but in my knowledge and beliefs…That's Erik! When he's in one of those moods you're never quite certain what he's going to do, or how he's going to act. And his new business partner seems to be a figment of his own genius to be as in sync with madness as he is. So feedback is VERY much appreciated guys. Please review! I own nothing.**


	3. The Virgin Production

After fiddling with the key to the manager's office, Karissa gave a huff, kicking the door to allow herself in. Attempting to shake the long bangs out of her vision, the Greek walked towards the cluttered desk before dumping her belongings of portfolios and ledgers onto it. Collecting the ends of her dress she made her way to her chair and began sorting through the lots of papers.

A few minutes went by before she began fiddling with her pen, and casting a glance to the shadows. "Does thou plan to stand there the rest of the day Monsieur Voyeur?"

The groan of the wooden floors sounded as Erik made his way out of the shadows and towards the front of her desk. "Such a delicate flora, woman is with her diction." He commented taking the winged chair adjacent from her. "A true lady as always this morning, Karissa."

"A 'lady'" She smiled, flipping through her ledger. "Doesn't run a business, either. Which do you prefer to work with?"

"Neither. I prefer to work alone." He reminded, his eyes behind the mask watching her pen move.

"As you've have parroted to me everyday, and yet you keep coming back." She reminded, pausing to add some figures on the parchment. "How much should I be budgeting for the new sets?"

"New sets? I thought we hadn't decided on a production yet." Erik inquired, placing a finger on the bottom of her ledger and turning it upside down so he could better see what she was planning.

Sighing the woman leaned against the desk eying the man in the mask. "Last night before we left here at some ungodly AM we were discussing what opera to produce next. I said 'How about _Fra Diavolo_? And you said 'Fantastic'!"

"Madam, I find it rather hard to believe that you of all people do not know of sarcasm!"

"I do, just not so late in the evening…or early whatever the hour was. What's wrong with THIS opera, and the last several dozen you've rejected."

"Yes, so mad it seems for me to reject this precious masterpiece. How originally comedic for a bandit to entice two moronic thieves to help him steal and win the hand of a inn keepers daughter. Ah, and fate saves her from marrying the rich choice her father had arranged! Originally delightful!"

"Fine." She sighed. "I was only suggesting it. How about a classic then? _Don Giovanni_? Surely you have nothing against Mozart?"

"I'm actually very fond of his work, but unfortunately Madam, La Grainier hosted that production less than a year ago."

"How unfortunate," She muttered. "_Aida_?"

"We produced that prior to _Don Giovanni_."

"_Fidelio_?"

"Mmm..." Erik paused his larynx. "Beethoven's only opera."

"What's wrong with it?" She pressed.

"Nothing is so much wrong…This is the first production with your name on it…Don't you want to do something other than a political opera?"

"Political?"

"Read between the lines." The ghost suggested, spreading his hands out in a gesture. "Or do something with a bold statement."

Madam Illiana showed her teeth in a crude smile. "Opera IS a bold statement with song rather than speech. You Parisians want your high class performances. I would prefer the old ways of a semi-chorus and spoken acts."

"You mean Greek?"

"Well…we did invent theatre." The tan woman mused.

"So history tells us. However, some things do better with improvement. What would you have the chorus perform. Oedipus? Antigone?"

"_L'Orfeo_!" She exclaimed, slamming her palms on the desk and standing up. "It's perfect. The Greek undertones are something I prefer…and the symbolism of the…first opera, for your satisfaction of my virgin production."

"Our production. That is assuming you want me to do more than simply show up on opening night." He commented dryly.

"I would appreciate your fine details…whatever they may be to bring this together. You know I am grateful to have you assisting with all this seeing as I am so-"

"Ill-equipped? Under experienced? Desperate?"

"BUSY. With public matters, Monsieur. Speaking of which I have to meet that cockroach of a publicist in an hour."

"Monsieur Verlish?" Erik inquired, studying the iron paperweight on her desk.

"No, I dismissed him." She shrugged, taking back her ledger and making a few notes.

Shaking his head the composer picked up the weight, noting it was a sculpted olive tree. "That's the third one in two weeks. You'll run out of publicity managers at this rate."

"I want the truth spoken about the productions. Not another undercover field day for my failed attempts at matrimony." She spat, her hands firmly gripping her pen till her knuckles were white.

"I wasn't suggesting otherwise." He commented, placing the object down. "At least now you can tell the busybody that you have decided on a production. I suggest you continue the symphony performances for the next few weeks while rehearsals are underway."

"Right." The business woman sighed, absently brushing her hair back in frustration. "That will at least keep the money coming in. When shall I expect a cast list from you?"

"Yes…I think the cast we have now will do…though our leading tenor for Orfeo is not up to my standards…actually our soprano is unqualified as well."

"You could always cast castrato." She replied nonchalant.

"Some old musical techniques were meant to die out madam." He commented, inwardly cringing at the idea.

"Then you'll have to have auditions." She paused, opening her desk drawer and retrieving some stationary. "I'll send my errand girl out after lunch and request the papers for a casting audition tomorrow afternoon. Is that a good time for you? Or do you need another day?"

"I beg your pardon?"

Karissa huffed, dipping her pen into the inkwell. "I said I would send my errand girl out about lunchtime to-"

"Not that!" Erik stood. "You expect me to what? Sit in the front row and listen to these wretches audition…in front of the rest of the theatre crew and public? Are you mad?"

"Are we not all a little mad? Besides as the Grainer's Artistic Manager, I assumed that was your job…Unless you know someone _better_ qualified than you." She trailed off.

'_I know exactly what you're doing you plotting little nymph_' He paced, still not use to being on this end of command. It had been years since he was the one who listened to orders and he damn well remembered why it had been so long. He should just end this, quit. But with that he knew he would lose his opera house and all its ties. Christine he had let go, his home beneath he had let go, but this he would not let slip through his fingers without a fight.

"Tomorrow afternoon at four in the evening you will have your 'proteges' ready to audition. Set yourself in the front row and have this go as if they were auditioning for you…I will let you know who is qualified for the tenor and soprano roles."

"And where, may I ask, will you be?"

"Close by…very close, Madam." He bowed making his way to the shadows of her office before disappearing completely.

Karissa smiled, leaning back in her chair. "As you wish Monsieur…as you wish."

**Yea! An update. So sorry for the wait. This story really is something I have been wanting to write for a long time…It's all together in my head, and sometimes I get frustrated when I'm doing a transition chapter, as I call this, because I want the plot to come together. Plus I really am trying to pride myself on all the research this phic requires…phew. So I really hope you guys are enjoying this. I would love reviews just so I know how I'm doing. Is it okay? Is anybody interested with a pairing of a woman almost as sarcastic and pessimistic as Erik? It is my belief that Erik with his personality traits might have been a case of manic-depression so I wanted to put him with a character that complemented that, a Gemini so to speak. And not just a girl but a strong woman and someone he deserves. Which is every phan-author's dream who supports the OW pairing. So please review, and let me know what you think. Constructive criticism is fine…just no flames or you will be reported. Thank you very much.**

**-Siren**


	4. Of Foolery and Ventriloquism

"Oh, of all the utterly ridiculous foolery!" Karissa sighed, turning the key to her town home and entering the front door. "That man made me look like an utter fool!"

"Mistress!" A tan redhead with large spectacles greeted, urgently collecting the woman's coat and bag.

"Calm down, Damara." The business woman soothed automatically. Damara, also a Greek immigrant, had first served as a maid when Karissa married Derrick Wilson. After the divorce she had sided her employment with Karissa, aware of the corruptness of her former husband. Damara throughout both of her employments and most of her life been a very timid girl; quick to care and nurture, but could not even stand to discipline a cat. Karissa's temper and moods had always frightened her slightly, causing her mistress more amusement than anything.

After a trying day with the theater and Erik, the woman had come home in a foul mood and was once again scolding herself for scaring the poor girl. "I am just…fatigued." She admitted.

"I understand." The girl smiled, hanging up the coat. "Would you care for some tea? Or perhaps spirits?" She frowned slightly, since the divorce her mistress was a bit too fond of the alcohol and laudanum often indulging in both every night.

"Both."

"Yes Ma'am." The red head sighed, heading for the kitchen.

The woman sighed, heading to her bedroom to change into some more comfortable clothes. Her wardrobe was lined with Parisian designs mostly for cotillions and evening wear…she couldn't remember the last time she had worn any of them. As of late her laundry consisted of one piece suits and her evening robes.

After stripping and wrapping herself in the silky bed garment she headed for the kitchen where a cup of brandy-laced tea was awaiting her.

"Thank Hera." She praised, bringing the drink to her lips. Once the warm liquid made its way down her throat, she could feel it both warming and numbing her body from the rest of the world. "Thank you Damara." She said, "I also appreciate your haste on delivering the audition script to the paper."

"Oh, not a problem Miss." The girl smiled. "How did the auditions go?"

The woman groaned. "Must you ask?"

"This is asinine." The woman muttered looking around the empty theater. Where IS he? She wondered, Here it was ten past four in the afternoon and she had held back the auditions waiting for Erik to announce his presence. 'So here I am standing in the middle of the theater, waiting for some sort of sign like he's a demonic angel casting a apocalyptic miracle. Realizing the time, she knew she could not hold the audition back anymore. She would simply have to cast this herself. If Erik was going to back out on her now, she had no choice. How hard could it be to cast an opera?

"Alright." She called to stage manager. "Send them in one at a time."

Rows away from the front stage, and many yards up Erik sat securely seated behind one of the balcony row's decorative columns. 'Why on Earth is she taking so long to begin the auditions?' He wondered watching her continuously pace in the front row orchestra section. He had said he would be close by, had he not? True Erik considered himself many things, but he was a man of his word…most of the time. "Finally." He muttered, crouching down behind box five's railing to get a better view of the stage. A large plump man walked to center stage, giving a over-dramatic bow. 'Oh this is going to be painful.' he predicted.

Below Karissa was thinking words of equal prediction. "Can you please tell me your name, and the piece for which you are about to audition."

"My dear lady, I am Senior Venchenzo Angelo Salvador Vanaduchi the Third, and I shall be performing for you the piece to secure my position in your lovely performance!" He boasted, finger reaching up to twirl the end of his thin mustache.

Upstairs, the former phantom was fighting the urge to bang his head against the wall.

"And the name of this piece is?" The Greek asked, trying to keep her patience.

"I shall be performing Radames' Letter from _Aida_"

"Begin." She said, leaning back in her seat.

"_I'm sorry for everything I've said And for anything I forgot to say too When things get so complicated I stumble at best muddle through I wish that our lives could be simple I don't want the world only you Oh I wish I could tell you this face to face But there's never the time never the place So this letter will have to do I love you.…"_

"Pitiful!" Erik spat. "A castrated bull would make a better tenor than he!"

Below the patron boxes in the orchestra rows, Karissa felt a chill run down her spine. Their was a buzzing in her ear almost like a Nat. Something had cut through the man's horrible excuse for a performance and penetrated her mind.

"Tell him if he dares to set foot on this stage again it better be for a janitorial position!"

That was clear enough this time! A voice was right in her ear! Erik's voice! Quickly the woman whipped her head around to look behind her. He wasn't there, she had heard him clear as day. Where the hell was he?

"Senora?" The performer asked. "Have I stunned you with my wonderful talents? Shall I perform something else?"

"Damnation Woman, if you insist on making me your artistic coordinator than I expect you to follow my advice now get that Italian wretch off _**my**_ stage immediately!"

"Your stage?" She called, standing up and turning around once again to find nothing but rows of empty chairs behind her. Not finding her masked assistant anywhere in sight caused her to bite the inside of her cheek in rage.

"Senora?"

The immigrant once again turned to face not only the bloated singer but a few random stage hands giving her curious looks.

"I-I." She stuttered before making a quick recovery. "I'm just stunned by your limited grasp of reality! Certainly you must realize what a terrible audition that was." She reasoned, placing on hand on her hip, and gesturing toward the man with the other. "The only thing I would like to see you perform is a mad dash off the stage, and out of MY opera house!" She said, throwing her voice behind her when she annunciated her ownership.

"B-but Senora, I Am Venchinzo-"

"No more of your long-winded introductions. Arrivederci!"

Normally Erik would have enjoyed such a pride blowing session to another ill-trained artist, but he couldn't help notice the curious antics of his lady manager. 'And here I thought you were aware of all my ghostly tricks' He thought to himself. Making himself comfortable he watched the dark haired woman take her seat before asking the next audition to come forth. Twisting his lips in mischief, Erik once again called out, "See if this time you can get someone who is even worth half of my time!"

He snickered to himself watching the woman again twitch in agitation before delivering a slap to her ear, as if she had just crushed a mosquito.

Karissa was even more annoyed when the buzzing filled her hearing canal in a sound imitating the real insect. "That man." She growled, slapping her ear in more agitation.

The afternoon progressed as such, Erik quickly weeding out several singers before they even reached their song's chorus. The entire time, he took advantage of throwing little quips to Madam Illiana, just to see how much she could truly take, without standing up and shouting to thin air in front of her employees.

When the final positions had been filled, and the majority of stagehands had called it quits, Karissa remained in her front row seat, tapping her nails against the armrest of the chair.

"So," The familiar voice said. "You have your cast, what is your next move?" The phantom inquired, materializing behind Karissa before hopping over a row of seats to stand in front of her.

The woman glared, coal colored eyes ignited with rage, before she stood up in front of him. "First," She began curling her fingers into a fist and delivering a swift blow to the man's shoulder.

Erik took a quick step back, eying the area she had hit. He was far from injured just…surprised. The last woman to strike him might have been his mother.

"First," She repeated "Your past days of manipulating the management of this opera house were exactly that; the past! This is my building now and if you ever, ever attempt to make me a fool again, not only will you be denied artistic input but you will be arrested, even if I have to have the Gendarme tear this place apart brick by bloody brick! Good night, Monsieur!" She finished, pivoting on her heal and storming out of the room.

The Phantom stood still watching the irate woman make her way from the theater, the clicking of her boots on the marble signaling that she had made it to the Gala Room. Erik's right hand quickly tightened going over to probe his opposite shoulder. Before long he threw his head back emitting a burst of laughter. That insane, rash, cat of a woman had actually struck him. Punched him!

"Oh yes!" He called after her. "I shall make sure to act like a proper Phantom of the Opera should! Good evening to you as well Madam!" He laughed, turning on his heel and heading for home.

**Sorry accidentally deleted chapter, but I'm re-posting now! Review! Wow, Sorry for the time lapse in updating, been busy. But now I have officially Graduated! Now I'm just looking for a job, Lol. But that should give me more time to write. Hopefully. I really do appreciate all the reviews I have gotten and look forward to hearing more from you all. Please tell me your opinions and what you think of the story, without the flames. Good night to all! **

**-Siren**

**P.S.**

**I own nothing, including the opera AIDA or any of it's lyrics! I'm just a phan!  
**


	5. Reflections of Temper

A series of gentle cords echoed softly in the Persian's main room. The composer's fingers gently grazed the piano's ivory keys. Softly and swiftly a connection few could fuse was made between the music and Erik's very soul. A bond; The Daroga mused. One he could never come to understand, though he certainly questioned if each musician had such a connection with music as his friend did.

Since Erik had first come to stay in his home, Nadir had often pleaded for his friend to resume his talents in some way. A man such as him could not simply go on without manifesting himself in someway. Without music or art Erik's very presence seemed to whither away. After his bedridden stage had been over, Nadir had ordered a piano to be brought into the home, trying to persuade his friend. At first Erik had tuned the instrument, played a few scales, and deemed it to be in acceptable order. Occasionally, he would humor his friend and Darius with a few classics, but this.

It was rare indeed for Erik to come home in the middle of the afternoon and simply go to the instrument for almost four hours incisively. The older man felt relieved that his friend was beginning to display behaviors normal to his previous self.

"In some cultures it is considered ill-mannered to lurk in doorways." The musicians' voice informed.

The Persian looked up slightly startled, now that the soft melodies had come to an end. "I was just a little surprised to hear you play so avidly all of the sudden."

"Yes, well." The masked man paused looking down at his fingers. "I don't know what has gotten into me."

"You make it sound as if you've committed a crime. You were just playing the piano."

"Sometimes it seems like all my actions are incriminating." He mused.

'Ah back to THAT tone are we?' The oriental sighed, throwing a wave at his friend. "Come Darius has prepared supper."

The evening continued in a light atmosphere, the three men enjoying a quiet meal of lamb stew over rice, with flat bread.

"I think the treaty will make quite a large impact." Nadir insisted, taking a sip of his Chai. "It shows this country, has acknowledged the war enough and sees the need to ask for aid."

Erik shook his head, letting out a frustrated sigh. "Treaty or not, some ill-minded group will see it fit to act on it's own and it will be over before the ink on the documents has time to dry. Besides Daroga you of all people should know that when one war ends another will arise soon after. Such is human nature." He finished.

"Spare me your pessimism, Erik. Something out of the ordinary must have happened today." Nadir cleared.

"I am sure it did." The masked man spoke. "…Am I suppose to guess what that was?"

"You came home from the opera and went right to your instrument. You haven't done that since came to stay here. Why the change old friend?" He inquired.

The man let out a frustrated noise before rising from the table. "Must everything have a reason for you?" He spat, heading into the sitting room without a second glance.

Quickly the other man followed him, walking in to find his friend once again at the piano bench, one finger absently stroking the keys. After a few moments Erik grew tired of his companions' stares and spoke. "Today at the auditions, I witnessed some of the worst assaults to my eardrum I have ever endured." He explained. "I simply wished to hear something more soothing when I returned, and that is all."

"That is all?" His friend inquired.

"All for you to know." He said. After his encounter with Karissa's temper, he had first found her assault humorous. Most women were to frightened of him to even approach him let alone throw a fist. Christine had barely had enough dander to say boo to a goose let alone do anything but cry when it came to rival his anger. Her tears had worked on a few occasions. A crying woman to Erik was one of the most frustrating things in existence. He never knew what to do in such cases, in the beginning he would frequently apologize, sometimes even begging her to stop. Though towards the end of their time together he would simply give in to his anger and yell. It was not the most effective method but he certainly felt better in the end, having released all of his qualms.

Suddenly his mind drifted to Karissa and her irate behavior, sure he had overheard her thunder a few times. He had been in the other room when she had verbally dismissed and dismembered her last few publicists or any press that had come to bother her. Usually though she wore such a calm persona he would still find himself surprised every time one of her other moods came forth. The woman was infuriatingly prideful, impossible to predict, and had no morals that kept her from displaying the most insane essence he had ever seen.

'I dare say she's more like me than I would like to admit' He realized. Then he should do his best not to push her too far. Striking him would get old fast, but Heaven forbid she take the more feminine path and fall into weeping hysterics around him. THAT he could not simply deal with anymore. Though he would admit riling her was becoming his mild source of entertainment. Surely he could continue it for a bit more…

Damara flinched as another shatter of destruction echoed from her mistress' suite. The first hour she had fought her instincts to go and check on the woman, but now she knew better than to disturb her at this point. Karissa had briefly gone over the events that took place that afternoon at La Grainer, and from the description of Monsieur Erik's antics Damara was surprised the house was still standing.

Karissa had drank most of her evening meal, and afterwards had locked herself in her chambers. At first she had tried to sit down and think rationally. That idea did not last long. Sitting still with no task often drove her mad. She immediately went to her desk, preparing a letter to Erik to inform him of his immediate forced resignation…but in the end she had torn it up.

No, letting him go was too easy, and deep down she knew he would never leave her be. Charles Grainer had warned her when she purchased the opera house that Erik might still be lurking around. She had admired that, and actually hoped that if they had an encounter she could rely on him to steer the productions artistically. Lord knows she could not. Karissa had been born with a mind for business and did not posses an artistic bone in her body.

While most wives were helping keep the house in order and embroidering in their spare time Karissa had been doing her husband's books, and sitting in on investment meetings. Her lack of demure hobbies had been one of the many rifts in their marriage, Derrick's infidelity was just the final straw.

"I guess I'm incapable of a lot of feminine things." She whispered, her hand absently brushing her stomach. "But that is not the issue now." She reasoned. The ownership of the opera house was a new chapter in her life, and no one was going to take that from her. Not even the former opera ghost would swage her to stop.

Dimming the lamp on her desk, she walked to her bed shedding her silk robe along the way. After pulling back the covers, her hand went to absently stroke one of the Persian cats on the bed. 'Sleep well tonight Erik,' She bid, 'Tomorrow I shall take you on the ride of your life.'

**Whoot, on a roll for updating, though I'm not sure so many people are really reading. Lol. I again ask for all of you to review, the feed back really keeps me going. So please from one phan to another REVIEW!**

**1) The treaty Nadir and Erik are discussing is the Treaty of Bardo. For those not up to date on European History in 1881 French Parliament signed a treaty with Algeria to defeat a common enemy. For more details you'll have to wiki. ^_^**

**2) I do not own Erik. Just this particular phan phic's plot. **


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